A Seeker's Just Reward
Garage - Combaticon Base A slanting ramp leads down from a door that has been carefully concealed to blend in with the face of the mountains. The end of the ramp is marked with a long black and yellow rectangle in front of which stands a low ledge which runs around the perimeter of the garage wall. Beside the stopping point indicated on the floor but not within it stands a heavy duty Energon refueling unit which is connected by a thick cable which snakes across the floor into a socket in the wall. At the west wall stands a self contained analysis and repair device which can be used to repair any mechanical devices present in the garage. The combaticon base, a base so well hidden that sometimes even the most clever of the combaticons can actually end up losing the entrance to it. But it's there, somewhere in the boondocks of Navada. And it's where the con-man of the Decepticons has put up shop. At least, for the decepticons, that is. It's hardly his only 'shop front', that's for sure. But it's where he is today, in either case. For once, Swindle is neither wheeling or dealing. He's situated back in his workshop located near the armory or the base itself. Sparks fly from the welding tool held in his hands, reflected off of his violet eyes as he works. A few bits of trash and other pieces lie across the floor around him. Not to mention a large crate that has a very conspicuous 'Danger, Nuclear Materials' sign on it. He doesn't just leave those crates lying around, does he? Bumbling and stumbling into the Combaticon base, having controlled his volitions ... Backfire pridefully strides into the workshop, one arm cradling what looks like a six-pack of Decepticon severed heads. Whatever it is, apparently it's giving the Seeker a false sense of importance. "Swindle! Swindle!" he calls out, looking around. Finally noting his location, the simpleton pads up in a cocky strut. "Swindle, there you are comrade. So? Do you have the payment ready?" Blast Off strolls out of the planning room/command center of base, his expression as impassive as ever. "News reports of disruptive unusual activity and energy emissions in the higher levels of the atmosphere. There's no way even I am going to attempt reaching orbit in that mess," he grumbles to no one in particular. "At least if Menasor does succeed in rending the surface of this organics infested rock, this complex is classified as a level 8 blast shelte--" He stops as Backfire comes barging in. ".. Whatever happened to this being a -hidden- base?", he growls, though it's Swindle that's the target of his scathing glare instead of the Seeker. Of course, Swindle has been expecting the Seeker. Which is precicely why the myriad of different explosives and other sorts of traps don't go off. Which is lucky, considering how many munitions the combaticon has invested in them. Probably part of the reason why the base has such a high blast shelter rating. "Da, comrade," Swindle replies in his best russian accent. He manages it pretty well, actually. A pause, as he looks up, tapping a finger on his workdesk. "You know, that reminds me of the last Russian Czar. Strange sort of fellow, always was looking to buy more plutonium from me than I felt comfortable giving to him." Which says a lot, considering that Swindle feels comfortable giving high explosives to just about anyone. "I'll need your weapons," Another pause, as he eyes the package, "And... Of course, first, to make sure that your own payment is... ah, satisfactory!" He then turns a purely innocent look towards Blast Off. Well, mostly innocent. As innocent as he can manage. "Hidden to our /enemies/, of course! But Backfire here is a customer!" He has a sly grin on his face, and he winks in a 'This will be worth it' sort of fashion at the shuttle. Backfire uneasily sets the six-pack down, weary of the Decepticon 'trader'. Sending him on a suicide mission, for vintage energon? Rediculous. But when you want systems upgraded in a pinch, and you've worn out your welcome with the tech division ... Swindle is your only option. Other than stealing a weapons engineer yourself, but that didn't work out so well last time either. "Satisfactory, it shall be Swindle." the Seeker blurts, giving Blast Off a dirty scowl. He doesn't forget the orbital cannoning either. "As for my weapons.." he trails off, reaching into subspace. Setting before him shortly thereafter: A rocket launcher with the words 'GA LAK TIK ROCK-IT LAWN-CHAIR' scrawled on the side, a futuristic buck rogers space gun that is his signature Hypno-Ray Rifle, and his own two hands?? Turning them over would reveal the indent on the palm, where his destructive and unpredictable plasma blasts originate from. "There." Blast Off just sighs, resting his face in one palm for a moment, grumbling something to the effect of "I don't know how Onslaught puts up with leading this group" under his breath, and decides he might as well watch the proceedings for himself. He does give Backfire a bit of a nod as he approachs though. "You went through... great lengths in the course of aquiring what you desire it would seem." More like insane lengths, but he's trying to be a -little- less barbing than usual. For one reason or another, Swindle has his own way of doing things. They may not be traditional, and they sure as slag aren't in any sort of book. But it's his own way of doing things. And so far, it works. A look of professionalism overcomes the grin that was on his face just a nanosecond ago, and he leans forward to investigate the pack of energon. His purple eyes flicker as a series of scanning software and hardware comes to life, investigating the volatile substance. Apparently satisfied, his customary 'untrustworthy grin' forms on his lips. "Ah, perfect. And in prime condition, too! I don't care how you got it," He explains, quickly, shaking his head and a hand. Better that way, really. "I'm sure it was vallient and you slagged plenty of Autobots in the process. Now then..." Attention shifting back to his desk, Swindle reaches for a set of large (Comparitively) tweasers. With them, he picks up a device, something like a large computer chip, and holds it up for inspection. "Now then! My side of the bargain, of course. These are enhancer chips. Can only be made with trace amounts of plutonium to enhance the energy going through them. It just so happens that in one of my recent endevors that I... Aquired a good deal of plutonium." That grin is back, just as untrustworthy as ever! Leaning forward, he intends to flip open the control panel for one of Backfire's wrist beams. "Don't worry, this is tested 99.9% safe to cybertronians. But in the rare event that you have side effects of jitters, vocal disruptions or random power drains, well, that's just your system getting used to it and is completely nothing to worry about!" Really! "He already has freak green energon, I doubt a bit of nuclear material is going to make much of a difference," Blast Off drawls as he crosses his arms. Now -that- sounds more like him. Backfire crosses his arms, yet the gesture looks funny ... given his missing hands. Kind of like the worse off pirate who has TWO hooks for hands. "Ah, yes. Let me tell you Combaticons, a glorious struggle it was. For starters, let me see who was all there..." he trails, trying to come up with a list. "There was the Prime station wagon thingie, Skids, Magnus, Ironhide, Nosecone, Drift, Defensor, Skyfire, Alpha Trion, Victory Leo, Roller ... don't know how he got there, all the Wreckers, Warpath, Powerglide ... ugh I detest that one, Ratchet, Elita One and her infernal tribe of femmes, Raptor, Jetfire, Silverbolt, all the Dinobots, Kup, that little orange one who rhymes ... cool Autobot bytheway, Scattershot, Seaspray, Air Raid, Cosmos, oh Blaster and all his infernal tapes, Annnnnnnnnnnd the entire race of the Junkions." Backfire finishes. "Silence curr, can't you see Swindle is performing a delicate operation!!" the Seeker asides to Blast Off. Blast Off would roll his optics at the supposed attendance if he had actual individual optics and not a visor... kind of odd when one realizes it, Swindle is the only one with a -full face- of the Combaticons. Starscream must of run out of noses or some such. He's seen Swindle work his magic enough times, but still watchs with some dull facination. "Don't make me cannon you. Again," is all he retorts to Backfire. "You're fortunate Lord Galvatron values your use as fodder enough to want you back in salvagable pieces." "Green energon, huh?" Swindle raises one brow to eye Blast Off, then back at Backfire. "Well, at least there's one side effect you don't have to worry about!" He isn't really serious, is he? You never know with him. He reaches for his welder, and begins to weld the chip into the proper place carefully. Swindle just sort of nods his head distractedly along with Backfire's story. "Mmmhmm, that's just increadible," He says, his tone sounding believing, but that doesn't mean anything. He'd be more likely to believe that the moon is made of cheese. The first chip is installed quickly - Maybe faster due to the tensions that have begun to mount - and he moves to the next hand. A purple optic glances up at Blast Off, then at the handless Backfire. Good thing he has Backfire's weapons. Quickly, Swindle moves to the ray gun. "You're lucky, this is the last of my plutonium. I trust you'll put it to good use on the remaining leaders of the autobots you haven't already destroyed." "Did I say destroy? Err, I meant embarrassed in front of their underlings. Nay, I let them live the day out ... having tasted my venomous sting, and that of the EMPIRE's is a much more cruel thing to exist with. As compared to destroying them, comrade." Backfire stammers, trying to keep his story straight. "But destroyed them, I could have!" "Destroying their morale integerty is almost as important as their physical being," Blast Off relents coolly. Not that he -believes- most of it, but even the most elaborate tales have at least some nugget of truth in them. Usually buried deep inside. Besides, brutalizing an unarmed (or unhanded in this case) target is so beneath him. No challenge in it at all. "Did I mention Omega Supreme was there too?" Backfire adds. Though he's slowly being -really- tempted to make an exception in this case. "This time you can!" Swindle notes with actual pride and satisfaction. But only to his own work. "I garuntee that you'll see some serious explosions with these babies." For the rocket launcher, he does mostly the same, augmenting them to improve the effectiveness of the rocket system. "That'll do you," He says with a nod of his head firmly. With his tweasers, he closes the circuit hatch for the rocket launcher, locking it. "Go ahead and try them on. Here, I'll give you a hand." Literally, in this case, as Swindle holds up one of Backfire's hands. "Not funny, comrade." Backfire grows dour, reaching out with stumps so the Combaticon can reattach them. Swindle sighs in mock exasperation. "Everyone's a critic. My sense of humor is never appreciated." But his expression turns to his usual sleezy grin as he attaches the hands for Backfire. Things will... Feel normal, at least! "Just don't try them out in this room. Or the base, for that matter. I misplaced some karthanium this morning, and it's a highly volatile substance." The scary thing is that it's -Blast Off- that snickers at the horrible joke... though it's more likely that he's snickering at how much it annoyed Backfire than at it actually being funny. "You should consider yourself fortunate. Usually Swindle takes -an arm and a leg- for his services." "Fortunate, yes. For the upgrades, I ... BACKFIRE glory of the EMPIRE. Destroyer of a thousand moons, the power of ten unbridled suns, last starfighter ... wait, no I'm not. AHEM. Yes, I am thankful." Backfire laughs, leaning back and charging a ball of plasma in his hands. "Oh. Not in here? I thought you totally said to do so in here, comrade." he sighs, ball of plasma only growing bigger and bigger. "By the name of Straxus, it WON'T STOP!" "You moron, it's just your systems recalibrating to the new potency of your hardware. Give it a few seconds, it will pass." A pause. And maaaaaybe a glint across Blast Off's visor as he continues, "or you spontaniously combust." Backfire looks at the highly volatile munitions before them all. "That, moron ... is a concern we should all share!" he yelps, concern rising as the mix of superheated plasma only boils and enlargens by the second. With a groan, Swindle applies his hand over his face. "Okay, Blast Off. Now I see the merit of seeing customers outside of the base." Hurredly, he grabs the containers that had been placed on the top of the desk and hides them away. It's best not to ask where, his means of storing objects are a craft secret. With his other hand, he motions towards Backfire. "Get over there, near the door!" The container gone, his other hand gropes around for a control pannel in the desk. Some sort of containment system? "Oh, yes. You're quite right Swindle ... best to contain this blast in a CONTAINMENT field." Backfire shouts, still worried about being blown to bits. "Then we can go back to being sociable and trusted comrades of the EMPIRE!" Despite the possibe imminent explosion, Blast Off is almost.. casual as he walks away. Or it could just be that cold sniper's detachment at work, as he silently walks over to the area that more or less serves as the 'launch pad' for himself or Vortex, and hits a level. Despite Swindle's comments of a 'containment field', its instead the overhead hatch for aerial vehicles that opens. Hmmmmm... "Huh? Oh, yes, of course, containment!" Swindle still manages to sound as truthful as ever, even when in the face of danger. He seems to finally find what he was looking for, pressing down on the button hard. There's a click, and a loud grinding of mechanic devices underneath Backfire's feet. Then the floor abruptly rushes up to meet Backfire. Literally. The floor suddenly sproings upwards, almost comically, with more than enough force to send a transformer flying. Flying right up through the now open overhead hatch. "Overhead door?" Backfire mutters, when Blast Off raises the roof to allow for aerial departure. He's completely caught unawares, as the spring triggered floor underneath him snaps, sending him up and out of the base. "TRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAITORS!" the Seeker simpleton cries out, hurling through the air at a voracious speed. "TREACHERY ASIDE, THANK FOR THE UPGRAAAAAAAAAAAADE!" Blast Off turns his head to look to Swindle after Backfire it's ejected from the base for their own safety. "Why -do- we have a spring-plate there, anyways?" And thus, Backfire is blasting off again. Swindle leans back into his chair, eyeing the blotch in the sky that is the quickly departing Seeker. "And another business transaction completed!" He nods sagely, satisfied with himself. Another button press and the spring board floor retracts back to where it was, inconspicious as ever. Absently, Swindle reaches down again to pick up the six pack of energon bottles. He carefully dusts off the top of them, taking great care with them. As if brought out of his thoughts, he glances up at Blast Off. "Oh, I was bored one day and thought 'why not'. And to think, I was starting to think I'd never get a use out of it." Then, pulling out one of the bottles, he sets it on the desk. He grins, slyly, "So would you pay an arm or a leg for a bottle of vintage energon?"